Rag Dolls
by Sylvia1
Summary: Young Seto and Mokuba deal with the passing of their parents and try to find a way to survive in a world against them.
1. Castaways

Rag Dolls

By Sylvia

May 2003

Disclaimer: I don't own Seto or Mokuba, and this is probably not even close to their true history, but that's what makes Yu-Gi-Oh so much fun!  I'm not trying to infringe on copyright laws or anything else, I'm just writing for good old non-profit fun.

Summary: Young Seto and Mokuba deal with the passing of their parents and try to find a way to survive in a world against them.

Author's Note: A special thanks goes out to Kabuki for being the ever-faithful, ever-critical beta reader.  Reviews are always welcome!

Chapter 1:

The rain fell in a torrent, making a pitter-pattering sound on the roof of the faded blue vehicle, reminding Seto of a million marching soldiers set out on some dismal mission.  He stared through the thick soup of water that had collected on the front windshield, rubbing his sweaty hands in fear and worry.  Once in a while the lazy wipers would attempt to clear the foggy glass, illuminating the wet white coat of the man that had driven them to this ominous place. His once crisp white hat had been completely drenched as soon as he'd stepped from the safety of the vehicle, and he stood with eternal patience before the great double wooden doors, waiting a response from the otherwise silent building.  Seto glanced down at the dim blue digital clock on the dash, the numbers flickering as the engine grumbled with waving anticipation.  The man had been standing there for five minutes.  He squinted at the blurred white figure screened by the torrential rain through the waterfall on the dash, watching as the cloaked figure pushed the button for the doorbell again, and Seto furrowed his brows in uncertainty.

"What do you think's taking him so long, big brother?" Mokuba tearful voice mirrored Seto's own feelings as he turned in his seat to give his brother a reassuring smile.  The child's large blue eyes stared at him in fear as he clutched the seatbelt to his toddler-safe car seat, fidgeting with the obviously uncomfortable strap in annoyance.

"They're probably all asleep, it is pretty late." Seto unbuckled his seatbelt, and reached back to pull his brother's strap away from his neck and tucked it beneath his arm.  "Is that better?"

"Yeah."  Mokuba smiled at him in appreciation.  Seto could never understand how the smallest things always seemed to thrill the child.  Any sort of comfort he gave him always made his large blue eyes light up in appreciation.  Mokuba was so innocent, but Seto knew that even as an infant, his sometimes devious brother would use that to his advantage.  Many a hapless mother was taken in by those baby blues – it was always Seto they shrank away from.  He recalled the words of their Aunt Eliza who lived in some country in Europe when she saw the two boys shortly after their parents' accident.  Seto distrusted her as soon as he saw her.  Her eyes were large but angled in such a way that they denied affection; her large crooked nose reminded him more of a pirate's hook than something she was born with.  She had worn a bright red summer dress the day she'd come to see them, the day she was supposed to take them home.  The two brothers had been kept in the house, and since she was the nearest relative she was phoned immediately.  Upon viewing the children, she'd been impossibly intent upon only taking Mokuba with her, loving the cute child as soon as she saw him, but Seto was not so easily fooled.  He knew what his parents had thought of this woman, he remembered what they spoke of her behind closed doors in the comfort of their home, and he knew what would happen to them if they went with her.

The tall gangly brunette was poking a gnarled finger into his little brother's side to make him laugh – it was utterly sickening.  Mokuba kept trying to push the woman away, begging to be released, but the woman held him tightly despite her thin form.  Seto scowled, waiting patiently for the dense woman to notice him.  She smiled her fake grins as she regarded the elder of the two boys.  Glancing in the direction of the caretaker, the man in the white coat, she'd dutifully placed his little brother to the ground, and stared down at Seto with scrutiny.

"I didn't realize there were two of them," her hideous laughter was badly forced, and the caretaker only rolled his eyes.

"Didn't you know your sister had two sons?" he looked rather shocked.

"Well, we weren't exactly what you would call close." She laughed again.  Her breath smelled like alcohol and her perfume reeked of artificial sunflowers.  Seto simply stood, awaiting his judgment like a kid that had been sent to the principal's office.  Eventually, she turned to him again, eying him with undeniable suspicion, and then smiling at his brother.  "Can't I just take the one of them?"

"This isn't some auction, Ma'am.  Please, these boys need a home, and you're the only relative they have."  The man in the white trench coat ruffled through some papers absent-mindedly.  This was obviously only a job that needed to be completed, and he had other matters to attend to.

"Well, I don't like that one," she pointed again to Seto, her jagged fingernails covered in a thin layer of red paint.  "He looks like he'd kill me if given the chance," she stared at him again, her crooked eyes glaring in outrage.  "He looks like he'd strangle me in my sleep – just look at that demonic child!  You can't force me to take that thing home with me!  No, I won't do it.  I'll take the young one, but you can't force me to take that one."

Seto took hold of Mokuba's hand, urging him away from the enraged and volatile woman.  "Either you take both of us, or you don't get either," Seto was surprised by how strong his voice sounded, and felt a hot flush race to his head as the two adults stared at him in shock. "I don't trust you, and Mother hated you."

"What did you say to me?" the woman leaned down, glaring daggers into the child.

"Now listen here, kid, you can't just go around and –" the man moved forward with an argument but the woman held out an arm, a few bangles sliding down her thin wrists with a tinkle.

"Well, look.  You heard the kid – if I can't take them both, I can't take either.  That sounds fair to me," she smiled at the boy, yellowed teeth with coffee stains.  Seto took a step backwards, squeezing Mokuba's hand with determination.  The man had taken her into the next room, and Seto had waited for nearly an hour listening to the argument.  The pair had only learned of their parents' demise only that morning, and even now as they waited in the stuffy vehicle, they were both reeling from the shock.  Their aunt hadn't wanted them, and to be quite honest, Seto would have refused to go with her.  He had been prepared to fling any accusation he could muster at the woman, any insult, any curse that would make her leave him and his baby brother alone.  He remembered quite clearly what his mother had thought of her.

"The woman's a mess, Seto, and I don't want you or Mokuba associating with her in any way.  She's so wrapped up in her own problems and foolishness that she wouldn't give the time of day to the two of you." She'd hugged him then, and Seto's eyes moistened as he recalled the soft smell of peaches he'd be immersed in whenever her arms had wrapped around him.

"I really can't believe she's your sister, dear," the deep voice of Seto's father entering the room, straightening his tie in exasperation.  "Imagine her coming here and asking for money just so she can go buy more of her … Damn her!  Does she think we're fools?  That we wouldn't know?  She was painted up like a goddamn whore -"  The man had always had a quick temper, would always jump to conclusions, but in this case Seto had felt that the tall, built man had been correct.  His father had raked a hand through his disheveled russet hair, which always had that peculiar habit of falling into his equally dark eyes.

"Please, not in front of Seto!" His mother had held him all the closer, her soft silk shirt brushing against his cheek.  Seto wrapped his arms around himself for warmth, remembering the comfort and peace he had felt within those arms.  He thought of the car wreck, of how his mother must have appeared – no longer the warm, strong woman he'd known, but a cold, limp form that he might not even be able to recognize.  What if the policemen and detectives and ambulance crews hadn't correctly determined her dead, though?  What if the strong heartbeat that had soothed him so much only days ago had whispered of life still?

Burning candles, frankincense and myrrh incense filling his nostrils, the shadowy looming rafters of the cathedral.  The people that crowded Seto and his brother, dressed in black suits, black dresses, tears streaming down their faces, tiny, frail handkerchiefs dabbing the red, puffy eyes, and at the front of the room, two black coffins, perfectly aligned with each other.  The lids were closed, each box adorned with gorgeous bouquets of flowers, but Seto could imagine their faces.  Their aunt had been there, though she'd shed no tears.  Her black dress was lined in red, a long cut up the side to flash the insulting hue as she floundered about, drinking and laughing without a care in the world.  Mokuba could barely get near the coffins – everyone thought it was bad for a child to have to lose his parents at such a young age.  But Seto would not allow them to pull him away, he stood between the two coffins, each the exact same shape and size, like a can of sardines, one size fits all.  He stared from his father's coffin, to his mother's, from the left, to the right, until his gaze fixed on her coffin alone.  He stared at the head, wondering what she looked like beneath, wondering how mutilated and scarred she truly was, and for an instant he almost though he could hear her, a cry for help perhaps?  Could she truly be alive?  Trapped in the black box that was far too big for her frail form?

Seto wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his dirty sleeve.  He wished he could have seen her, he wished he'd flung the damn lid from the box and pulled her free of the flowers, free of the incense and candles, out into the sunshine again, where she could hold him and comfort him and let him know that everything would be alright…

"Seto, I miss Mom and Dad." Seto looked behind him again and stared at his baby brother.  Mokuba never was able to take care of himself.  He'd always run to their mother or father, crying and making every kind of noise to get attention.  They'd always listen to him, no matter how mundane his request. He was definitely the most spoiled of the two.  Watching the boy now, Seto couldn't imagine what it must be like for his younger brother – the boy wasn't even able to get out of his safety belt without help.  Seto sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.  He knew what his parents would have wanted him to do, what they always wanted him to do – to look after his younger brother.  Well, he wouldn't let them down.  He could do that much for them.  He'd have to be the strong one – the dependable one for his little brother.  Smiling at the small child, Seto crawled through the space between the front two seats and curled up beside his brother.

"It's okay, Mokuba.  Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you."  Seto squeezed his brother's arm in comfort, wincing as he watched the tears stream down the child's face.  "Hey look, at least we'll have a place to sleep tonight."

"I wanna go home!  I don't wanna go to sleep in their nasty beds and eat their yucky food!  I want mamma!" The child sobbed into his hands, and Seto was for a moment uncertain of what to do.  Mokuba had always had their mother to run to when he was sad or injured, and she'd always soothe him, comfort him, and hold him.  Seto wrapped his arms around his brother, laying his head on the child's bushy head.  He too was frightened, but he couldn't let his brother see it.

"It'll be okay, Mokuba.  Please don't cry.  I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."  Slowly the child's sobs faded, and for a few minutes all Seto could hear was the soldiers again, marching across the roof of the car as droplets of rain struck in mismatched rhythm.  Their footsteps uneven with the pouring rain, like a funeral procession, a million men and women in black suits and dresses, tears streaming down their faces, running from the inescapable emptiness of the black boxes adorned with bouquets of white flowers.  Seto held his brother tighter, staring hard at the windshield and swallowing back the lump of fear in his throat.  He thought it looked as though it was melting with the rain, as though the droplets were acid and that the safety of the tiny metal box on wheels wouldn't be enough to keep it out.

Slowly he came to the realization that his parents had died within their car, someone said they'd been fused to the dash, horribly burned and were unable to get out of the vehicle.  He tried the handle of the door with curiosity, the drum of the raindrops ringing in his ears – the door wouldn't give.  He pulled again at the handle, but it wouldn't open.  Was this what his mother had felt like, trapped in that damn black box?  Had she pushed at the wood and banged on the silk lining?  The car looked terribly small suddenly, and Seto began to feel the claustrophobia bearing down all around him.  He pulled at the lock on the door, trying to unlock the steel barricade, but the knob wouldn't lift.  He pulled again and again, his sweaty fingers slipping on the plastic.

"Are you okay, big brother?"  Mokuba's thin voice caused Seto to spin around in his seat, his brother's eyes wide as saucers.  "Are we locked in?"  Blindly, Seto nodded, his head was dizzy and his breath was coming in uncontrollable gasps, but Mokuba placed a small hand on his shoulder.  "It'll be okay, Seto.  We'll take care of each other."  The boy's face was still wet with tears, but amazingly enough he was trying to smile.  Seto willed himself to calm down as he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep breaths.  He couldn't cry in front of his younger brother, not here, not now, not when he was the only person left for the poor kid to hang onto.  His brother was counting on him.  He covered Mokuba's hand with shaky fingers, feeling the claustrophobia crawling away, like a beast that had spared its prey.

Was this feeling anything like what his parents had felt?  Was it like a roller coaster?  Falling down and down and down, screaming until your lungs hurt and your throat stung?  What must it have felt like – "fused to the dash?"  Idly Seto wondered where in the car the dash was.  Was it on the roof?  Or near the trunk?  He suddenly felt very ashamed, not knowing where in the car his mother had been trapped.  It was like not knowing her name or how she laughed, with one hand shyly lifted to hide her smile.  It was like not knowing her favorite television show, or her favorite food… 

"Don't cry, big brother.  We'll have a nice bed to sleep in once we get inside." Mokuba's voice dragged him from his thoughts like a tow truck dragging a smashed car, its wheels stubbornly stuck in the mud.

Seto smiled, wiping the tears away again in shame.  "You mean we won't have to sleep in *nasty beds* and eat their *yucky food*?" His grin widened as the boy looked dumbfounded for a moment.

"Well, probably," Mokuba pulled at the strap which had come loose around his throat.  "But at least we'll be able to do it together!  Maybe you can sleep with me, and maybe you can make me food, and maybe…"

"Like chocolate chip waffles?"

"Yummy!" Mokuba started licking his lips, "Yeah!  And a nice big chocolate cake!"

"With strawberries?"

"And lots and lots of vanilla ice cream!"

"With sprinkles!"

Seto jumped as the door next to him was opened, the dim light of the interior of the vehicle unusually bright.  The sopping white hat appeared beside him, and the mustached man in the trench coat smiled, his thin lips stretched taut so that it seemed the action required a great effort.  "Come on, kids.  Hurry up."


	2. Unfriendly faces

A Boatload of Thanks:

Malik Fan – I'm flattered you think so.  I was kind of worried because I don't know all of Seto's and Mokuba's history together (simply because the newer episodes haven't shown in the US yet), but I mainly wanted to get the emotions/feelings across.  These two really do rely on each other, and it makes you wonder how that came to be.  I hope this final chapter lives up to your expectations.

Misura – Well, I think these two will be able to handle themselves – it's only an orphanage, right?  That's what they keep telling themselves.  Thank you for the great review!

Zidane – Ooh, a tearjerker.  :-) That means I'm pullin' on the right heart strings.  Really though, Seto's my favorite char in the show, and it's just so much fun to write about him and his little brother when they were young.  With these two guys around, how could this story *not* be a tearjerker?  *lol* Thanks for the review!

Author's Note: I'm not certain, but I'm trying to decide if I should write more fics in this fashion – Seto and Mokuba as kids, dealing with numerous problems.  If I did write it, though, it might tend to be rather graphic.  I don't imagine they had a very pretty childhood.  Let me know what you guys think.  If I get enough positive feedback, I might consider it!  *wicked grin*  Oh, and please leave a review too!  Us writers are starved for responses!

-- Sylvia

*****

Chapter 2:

Seto gave a listless nod, moving almost mechanically as he helped his brother out of the car seat, and pulled him out into the pouring rain.  The elder boy stared up into the man's pale face, blinking as the heavy droplets of rain fell into his eyes.  Their temporary caretaker nodded and with a gloved finger pointed toward the front doors of the looming orphanage.  In the pitch black night, the building seemed to simply emerge from the darkness, as though it were apart of it, and it was hard for Seto to tell where the edges of the building ended and the cloudy skies began.  He clutched Mokuba's hand in his own and waited for the man to move. Instead of guiding the boys, however, the man simply opened the driver's side door, gesturing absently toward the dark structure in the pouring rain.

 "Go on.  She's waiting for you inside.  Looks like you boys have a home, now."  The man in the white trench coat seemed pleased with himself, patting Seto's drenched hair with one gloved hand in mock affection.  Disgusted, Seto pulled away, backing toward the orphanage reluctantly – the lesser of two evils. Slowly, the two boys approached the doorway, uncertain of what to expect on the opposite side of the monstrous wooden doors.

"Seto, I'm scared." Mokuba's voice trembled and seemed to falter in the rushing wind.  

The elder boy squeezed his hand harder, trying to give comfort.  "Its okay, Mokuba, I'm here with you."  They climbed the steep jagged stairs and Seto pushed the slick white doorbell, awaiting a response.  He couldn't figure out why the two adults had spoken, and then the door had been closed.  Hadn't they known the two boys would be coming inside?  Shouldn't someone be waiting for them? He swallowed hard and turned around to see the two red brake lights disappear through the entrance to the driveway.

"He left us!" The bushy-headed toddler whispered with wide eyes, pulling on Seto's hand.  "Seto, he left us!  What're we gonna do?  What if they don't come?  Where're we gonna go?"

"Shh!" Seto elbowed the boy, his heart pounding in his ears as he heard footsteps within the darkened building.  A light turned on within the foyer, a cloudy illumination through the thin lace curtains cheerfully illuminated the two boys on the stoop.  A clanking of a key being turned in a lock, and slowly with a long drawn-out creak, the great wooden door was opened.  A woman's head poked out from around the corner, her hair was done up in rollers and piled on her head, covered with a thin blue cloth.  She wore a fuzzy pink bathrobe with dingy white slippers, and her hand clutched at the door as though she were afraid the two boys would assault her.  She looked at the brothers up and down with suspicion.

"You tha two kids he dropped off?" She produced a tiny cigarette from behind the door in her other hand, taking a long draught on it as she waited for an answer, completely oblivious to the pouring rain that drenched the two children.

"Yes, ma'am," Seto's teeth chattered uncontrollably in the cold, and he balled one of his hands in his pocket to keep it warm while he clutched Mokuba's with the other.  "I'm Seto and this is my little brother Mokuba.  We're… we're orphans, ma'am, and we were wondering if you would…"

"Well of course you're orphans!" The woman let out a squealing cackle, smiling with delight as she puffed again on the cigarette.  She squinted behind them, attempting to see through the black pitch into the driveway, "It looks as though he just left you two here, huh?" She frowned in irritation, leaning heavily on the wooden door as her eyes flittered back and forth at the two soaked and ragged children.  "You two look an absolute mess," she stared hard at Seto, as though she were waiting for something, but even though the shivering boy raked his brain for what he should say, his nerves and chilled limbs were overwhelming any ability to think.

"May we come in?" Mokuba's high-pitched voice chimed through the uncomfortable silence, and a long smile spread across the woman's face.

"Ah, finally he learns some manners." She shot a glare at Seto and took Mokuba's hand in her own, attempting to pull the boy away from the elder and into the house.

"No!" Mokuba cried, tears brimming once again in his large blue eyes, "Not without Seto!"  The woman watched him curiously, as though he were an oddity in a traveling circus.  Her beady eyes rested once again on Seto, waiting again for an answer.

"Ma'am, may w-we please come in?" Seto tried to stop his hands from shaking, and he wondered absently if it was from the chill or from his nerves.  He never was very good at talking in front of others, and now more than ever he wished he had his young brother's knack at public appearances.  She smiled again, gesturing for the two boys to enter, and closing the massive wooden door closed behind them.

Although the building looked massive from the outside, Seto discovered that the interior was far different.  He found he was standing in the main room, an old bedraggled coat rack stood to his left and before him was a tiny television with three sofas spread about that looked as though they were just about as old as the coat rack.  A narrow staircase rose up directly in front of him and bordered the main room.  He moved forward, noting that on the opposite side of the stairway, there was a hall that seemed to lead to a kitchen.  He could see no further than that, and he turned again to see the lanky woman was watching him.

"Are you finished? Then put your coat over there and take off those shoes." She gestured to a large pile of shoes that had been haphazardly stacked beneath the coat rack, almost as in offering.  "Rule number one, kids, don't get my stuff dirty.  That means you stay clean and you keep your jackets and shoes down here, I don't wanna see either of you prancing around getting dirt and mud and God knows what all over my clean furniture.  Just because it doesn't belong to you doesn't mean you can go around disrespecting people's things.  Got it?"  Mokuba's head bobbed like the dolls you'd put on the dashboard of a car, and for a flashing moment Seto thought of what his mother must have looked like, fused to her car seat, arms and legs a bloodied mess, everything still except her head which bobbed up and down like a hideous joke.  The boy put his palm to his forehead and closed his eyes, willing the vision and the nausea that accompanied it to pass.

"Eh?  What's up with him?" The beady-eyed woman watched Seto with worry, gesturing to Mokuba to answer her.  "Is he sick or something?  Damn it, if that bastard brought me a sick child again, I'm going to ring his little…"

"No, ma'am, Seto's not sick… he's just sad, that's all." The bushy-headed toddler rubbed his big brother's arm affectionately, aiding the taller boy out of his coat.  "He'll be okay, won't you Seto?"

Absently the elder boy nodded, and tried to focus on untying his shoes.  He wasn't quite sure why these gruesome sights kept haunting him, but he'd only started to have them since the night he'd been told about their parents.  It had been raining that night too, but at the time it seemed as though it was more than just rain; it was as though the entire world was weeping the passing of their mom and dad.  The sky had taken on a strange quality of light that gave everything a yellowed tinge, the sight had made Seto sick to his stomach.  The police officer had been a tall man, and the elder boy didn't believe it when the man had explained everything to him.

"They were going to have dinner together, is that correct?"

"Yessir," Seto barely remembered his own words, all that seemed important at the time was what the tall man with the funny mustache was saying to him.

"And they left a sitter here to watch over the two of you, right?"

"Yessir, they go out together once a week, and Ms. Sweeney always looks after us."

"Yes, she's a nice lady.  Well, little Seto," he hated it when people called him that, "I've got some bad news for you.  It seems that while your parents were going to dinner, they were hit pretty hard by a drunk driver.  The car seems to have spun out of control, and they knocked into a tractor trailer that was carrying some highly explosive liquid and…"  The man couldn't look at him, and that only made Seto all the more terrified.  He had no idea what it meant if a car spun out of control or what a tractor trailer was or what an explosive liquid was, but he knew that whatever this man had to say, it wasn't good.

"Well, Seto, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your parents are dead.  They burned to death in the vehicle and… and we're going to have to send you to some relatives now."  Seto had been shocked. He'd expected that perhaps they were badly hurt, or that maybe they were in the hospital like the time his brother had broken his leg when he fell out of a tree, but he'd never even considered that they might… not be coming back.  It seemed like their return would always be inevitable, like tomorrow following today or knowing that the hours of the clock were going to eventually come to a certain time.  He'd stared at the man for a few minutes, his eyes wide and his face pale, and then had asked the only thing that gnawed at his mind.

"Does Mokuba know?"

"Your little brother?  No, no, I'm sorry Seto, but you're going to have to tell him yourself." The policeman had already put his hat back on as he twirled his funny mustache, but Seto was in a haze, hardly noticing as the man gathered his belongings to leave.

"I… I have to tell him?  But how do I do that?" Seto had tried to move after the tall man as he'd begun to walk away, but his legs wouldn't obey him.

"I don't know, kid."  The policeman fastened his black parka and went back out into the rain, the yellow light had bathed him in its sickly ambient glow.  "Guess you'll just have to figure that out on your own."

Seto was pulled from his reverie when he stumbled over one of the stairs; his feet tangled together like a klutz.  He flailed one of his arms out, catching the railing before he landed, the rusty metal making an angry squeak as his weight pushed against it.  He smiled sheepishly as Mokuba held firm to his other hand and helped him up again.  The woman was further up the stairway, glaring in irritation as the two youngsters started up the steep climb again.  Mokuba spoke with blatant worry, his brow furrowed, "Are you okay, big brother?"  He rubbed Seto's hand reassuringly with his small fingers as they climbed.

"Yeah, I'm okay now," the elder boy sighed, dragging his attention away from his thoughts and back to the real world.

"Now over here's your room," she pulled a long ring of keys from her bathrobe pocket, fingering through them for a moment before sliding it into the lock.  She knocked on the door as she entered the dark room, and for a moment Seto couldn't see as his vision readjusted.  After his eyes had compensated for the lack of light, he began to make out rows of beds, about five rows in all with four beds in each.  In almost all of them he could make out some lumpy figure, some were snoring louder than any noise his father had made, and Dad was well-known for the insomnia-inducing sound. Others tossed and turned in irritation at the noise made by the three visitors.  The woman produced a small flashlight from her other pocket, making Seto wonder exactly how deep those things were, and she began flicking the yellow beam over each of the beds in turn.

"Okay, one, two, three, four… five… six…" She counted nineteen in all and he made out a thin smile on her lips as she turned to them.  "Well it looks like this is your lucky day, kiddos.  I've got just enough beds for you two, but you'll have to share.  Hopefully that won't be too much of a problem," she left no time to argue as she sauntered to the back of the room to the only empty bed left.  She bent down onto her knees and pulled out a large plastic tub from beneath it.  

"This'll be where you put your things, and this," she produced a small lunch pail and shook its heavy contents, producing a few irritated moans and groans from around the room.  "This is your soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush… anything you should need.  I'll get you another of these, all in due time," she motioned to Seto before reaching into the larger plastic bucket and pulling out two thin sheets that the elder boy soon realized with disgust that they were meant to be pajamas.  "Change into these and toss your dirty clothes back there," she jutted her thumb out behind her toward a large pile of dirty clothes.  "You'll have a new pair in the morning and I'll have some of the other kids show you around." She grinned once again and stood, sucking in a harsh breath as her knees popped.  Checking that her hair rollers were in place, she strode back to the door, "Nighty-night, boys."

The door closed with a thump and Seto cringed as he heard the key turn in its lock.  The two boys were left relatively alone in the chilled room, and Mokuba turned to Seto with worry, "Did you catch all of that, big brother?" His voice was hardly a whisper and fear danced in his large teary blue eyes.

"I think so," Seto began to shrug out of his wet shirt, looking at his little brother in confusion when he didn't do the same.  "What's wrong, Mokuba?  Don't you wanna go to bed?"

The bushy-headed boy nodded, but looked with embarrassment at all the rows of kids packed the room.  "Yeah, but I don't wanna get dressed in front of them…"

Seto smiled at the small boy in understanding, "Okay, I tell you what.  You can either crawl under the covers to get dressed or you can lean down onto the floor and I'll make sure nobody watches."

Mokuba looked from the bed to the floor for a few moments in consideration.  "Well, I don't wanna get the bed wet, I'm wet enough already." Seto nodded, standing beside the bed with his arms on his hips.

"I shall strike down anyone who tries to watch Mokuba!" He kept his voice to a whisper as he melodramatically swept his right arm over the room.  He smiled as Mokuba giggled from behind him and finished getting dressed.

"Did anybody see?"

"I don't think so, my spectacular x-ray vision didn't spy any traitors." Seto smiled as he peeled off his own wet socks and trousers, slipping the thin white pajamas over his head and poking about for a few minutes until he was able to successfully put his head and arms through the right holes.  "There we go. Well, climb on in."

Mokuba nodded sleepily, and Seto grinned at how quickly the sight of a bed could make his little brother tired.  The kid crawled in and the elder boy had to keep from laughing out loud as the toddler's tiny legs flailed for a few moments until he could pull himself up the rest of the way, the springs of the bed squeaking loudly.  Mokuba lifted his hands from the thin mattress in shame, "Oops, I'm sorry!" he whispered to the sleeping mass.  Seto simply chuckled and crawled in next to his baby brother, wrapping the toddler in his arms to keep him warm.  The pajamas and sheets were thin and the room was cold, but between the two brothers, they kept each other warm all night.  

--Fin--


End file.
